Collision Course
by TootsLogan
Summary: Mike and the Hammersley crew sail into unchartered waters when they encounter a severe electrical storm in Torres Strait and find themselves in the war-torn days of 1942. The Sea Patrol content is set between Seasons Two and Three of the series. The 'Biggles' aspect is from one of my own fanfics (published elsewhere) - 'Biggles in the RAAF'.
1. Chapter 1

_**Collision Course **_

A/N This fic is set during Biggles' previously unrecorded sojourn with the RAAF in the Torres Strait _circa_ 1942. The 'collision course' is when Biggles encounters members of the 21st Century RAN, inexplicably brought back in time.

For any _Sea Patrol_ fans, these events are set between Seasons Two and Three of the series.

[Of course, I don't own _Sea Patrol_ or any of its characters, nor do I own Biggles, Algy, Ginger, Bertie or any of the 666 boys, nor Raymond. These remain the property of the copyright holder of WE John's estate. I do, however, retain intellectual ownership of the characters Ken Mortensen, Jack Somers, Ted Edgars, Major-General Edgars, members of Ted's family, Tom, Rev Barnes...,]

_HMAS Hammersley_ - Torres Strait, April 2009

Lt Commander Mike Flynn, Commanding Officer of the Armidale Class Royal Australian Naval Patrol Boat, _HMAS Hammersley_, leant back in the captain's chair and stared at the increasingly turbulent waters ahead. The atmosphere on the Bridge could have been described as more than tense and crewmembers were studiously endeavouring not to attract the attention of either of their commanding officers. Nikki Caetano stole a surreptitious glance at the XO, standing to her left and who was also staring ahead at the unruly waters of Torres Strait. She caught a raised eyebrow from Swain, seated on the CO's far side, but could only offer a miniscule shrug in return. She sighed inwardly. It looked like being a long patrol if this pair maintained another of their infamous 'I can stay quiet longer than you can' battles. The X had been tight-lipped upon the pair's return to the Bridge after the CO's request for 'a word' in his cabin, following her earlier querying of an order and his face positively radiated his displeasure and command persona. Tight-lipped maybe, but the sparks crackling from the XO's green eyes said volumes to all those unfortunate enough to be on Bridge rotation that morning.

"Sir, NavCom have just advised there's some unusual weather patterns forming in this area."

"Thanks, RO," Lt Commander Mike Flynn glanced over his shoulder at his Radio Operator in acknowledgment. "X, prepare the boat and personnel for potential storm," he ordered, staring ahead.

"Yes, sir." Kate efficiently and effortlessly carried out the required procedures, whilst not relinquishing even a centimetre of her perceived moral high ground. When all preparations were underway to her satisfaction, Lt Kate McGregor, Executive Officer of the _Hammersley_, returned to her post, crossed her arms and continued staring through the forward window as the waters turned as grey as the vessel now tossing around in the storm's increasing fury.

Buffer took a deep breath, "Bit late in the season for this sort of a blow, isn't it, Boss?"

Mike sighed. His crew knew him too damn well. Had come to know Kate just as well also. Pete was offering an honourable way out of a situation that Mike knew he should not have allowed to develop. Whatever his personal dilemma with the woman she was, as always, the consummate professional where her job was concerned. Why did she have such an annoying ability to put him in his place, even when he chewed her out? And why was he always left with the uncomfortable feeling that it was his fault?

"You'd think so, Buff," Mike finally agreed, eyes sliding sideways towards his silent XO. "What's it look like on the screen, Nav?"

"Not good, Boss," Nikki began but a gasp from the hitherto silent X attracted her attention. Kate was staring and pointing ahead.

"What is _that_?"

Rushing towards them from the west was what appeared to be a horizontal band of flashing lightning, a myriad of colours crackling along its borders. Before anyone could answer her, RO gave a cry and grasped his headset, ripping it from his ears while the entire crew fell to their knees, hands clapped to their ears, and writhing with the agony of a high frequency sound assault.

"X! X! Kate!" The urgency of the voice finally penetrated her fogged senses and Kate pushed herself upright, straight into the dangerously close face of Mike Flynn. She swallowed and edged sideways as she gained her feet. "Are you all right?"

"Yes sir. I'm fine." She returned his stare for several electric seconds before moving her head to look around the Bridge. That was a mistake. Kate's equilibrium spun sickeningly and she staggered. Mike's rock-steady arm stilled her as he called to Swain.

"Check the X out, Swain. She seems a bit the worse for wear." His blue eyes held hers mischievously, knowing full well she would be driven to further fury by his gently patronising tone.

"Don't push it, sir," she muttered under her breath, trying to push away from his steadying arm.

"Did you say something, X?" His brow raised dangerously and she could see his mouth quirking. Damn the man! Why did he always manage to catch her out?

"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all. And I really am fine, thank you," she smiled readily at Swain as he rescued her from the Boss's hold.

"Better check you out, Ma'am," he would no more be side tracked concerning her welfare than would the CO.

"Consider that an order, X," added Mike, staring at her uncompromisingly, back in full command mode.

As she reluctantly followed Swain from the Bridge, Kate heard Buffer's puzzled comment.

"Why's it all calm so quickly? Never seen anything like that before."

"Nav," Mike turned to Nikki, "are we in the eye of the storm?" But the navigator was staring at her screens in mounting concern.

"They're all blank, Boss. We must have lost all our power…"

"No, we've still got some power," interrupted Charge. "The lights are still working and engines don't seem to have been affected."

"Robert, get me NavCom," ordered Mike, staring around his Bridge in puzzlement. "Whatever hit us appears to have wiped out all our satellite connections."

The Radio Operator gingerly picked up the headset.

"Sir, I don't think you should be asking me to use this headset until either ET or I have had a chance to check it out. I could have suffered damage to my hearing and might exacerbate it."

As Robert saw the exaggerated eye rolling from the Bridge crew, he glared around at them.

"What!?" he demanded.

"RO. Just do it. That's not a request," Mike's exasperated tone made even Robert hesitate to continue debating his personal health and with a martyred sigh he donned the offending headset while the CO tried to summon Electronics Technician Josh Holiday to the Bridge. Realising that the boat's internal communication systems seemed to have been rendered unusable, Mike dispatched an Able Seaman to find ET. RO's martyred expression slowly changed to one of bafflement.

"Sir, none of our radio channels appear to be working…" RO's voice became just so much background noise as Mike stared disbelievingly ahead. Indeed all the Bridge crew seemed similarly transfixed. Hurtling towards them were two vintage fighter aircraft each with a rising sun blazoned across its tail. As their unbelievable intent became clear, Mike roared,

"Down! Everyone DOWN!"

The drumming noise of bullets lacing along the deck and the splintering crash of glass as the Bridge window blew apart would live in their memories forever. The attack was as brief as it was vicious and the shaken crew began picking themselves up.

"Nav, check everyone's okay. Buff, what the hell was that!?" Mike's command voice was back. "Where are they?"

"Boss, I think I'm seeing things." Buffer's voice sounded strangled as he pointed upwards through the broken window. "I think those are Spitfires and Zeros," he ended helplessly.

"Sir, is it possible we've stumbled into some war games?" The X's voice came from behind as she re-entered the Bridge with Swain hot on her heels. "And, I'm fine sir," she added, glaring at him briefly, before turning to survey the damage inflicted on the _Hammersley_. She, too, raised disbelieving eyes to watch the aerial battle unfolding in the sky above them.

Even as they watched, one of the two fighters that had attacked the Patrol Boat plunged seawards, hitting the water with enormous force and vanishing. As they continued watching, the remaining Zero delivered a devastating round of fire along the rear fuselage of the leading Spitfire, and the tail appeared to slowly detach itself and fly straight back into the path of the attacker which erupted into flames and exploded before the watchers' horrified eyes. As the mortally wounded Spitfire rolled and began diving seawards, the pilot flung open the cockpit and dived seawards, his downward spiral finally arrested by the blossoming of his parachute.

"Good grief! What on earth…." whispered Mike shaking his head wonderingly. As quickly as the attack had occurred, it had passed. Watching the stricken pilot's descent, he snapped out of his stupor and back to reality.

"Buffer! Get a RHIB into the water and get that pilot!"

"Sir!" Kate was beside him in two quick strides. "That is my…"

"Not now, X," Mike's voice was uncompromising. "I am not sending a potentially concussed XO on a rescue mission while we have these lunatics and heavens knows what else in the skies."

"Sir. I. Am. Fine." Kate ground out the words, knowing she was rapidly approaching Mike's boundaries regarding insubordination. Why was he the only superior officer who managed to have this effect on her, Princess Perfect, the quintessential career naval officer, who prided herself on her professionalism? She bit her lower lip and reined in her unruly tongue.

"I said, not now!" he snapped back and turned his eyes to watching his sailors preparing the RHIB for its rescue mission. "Supervise their departure, X."

"Yes. Sir." She exited the Bridge, knowing full well that the remaining Bridge crew had heard the interchange and would be cautiously raising eyebrows, yet again, whilst studiously avoiding attracting the Boss's attention.

"And Spider, get this mess cleaned up," he ordered abruptly, gesticulating at the fragmented glass littering the Bridge floor. Spider nodded silently and hurried to obey.

"Away Sea Boat," she yelled as the crane lowered the RHIB. At least some things were still working, she thought. The engines seemed unaffected by the freak storm, just all the electronics and radio equipment had gone. Kate stood watching the RHIB streak towards the man in the water who had released himself from his parachute shrouds and had begun swimming towards his rescuers who soon hauled him aboard and turned back towards _Hammersley_. As the RHIB was being raised, she felt the familiar prickling along the back of her neck and didn't need to turn to know that Mike Flynn was standing behind her, invading her personal space again. Inhaling deeply, she stepped sideways and turned slightly towards him acknowledging his presence with her look.

"Sir, what do you think has happened?" she asked slowly as she watched the dripping airman step onto the boat deck.

"I don't know, X," returned her CO, just as slowly, also watching the stranger walking towards them.

"Hello. Looks like we came along just in time to lend a hand. Hope none of your crew were hurt?" The airman removed his vintage-looking leather flying helmet and shrugged his way out of his equally antiquated life vest revealing an upright, but slightly boyish figure. Mike found himself looking into a pair of friendly hazel eyes, set beneath fairish hair that flopped across his forehead. A man about his own age, he thought, whose dripping clothes appeared to be some sort of khaki uniform – a short sleeved shirt, with a set of wings sewn above the left breast pocket, was tucked into the waist band of a pair of knee-length khaki shorts, and flying boots squelched around his feet. A man with a distinctly British accent. Mike's eyes were drawn to the two and a half dark blue rings that adorned the shirt's epaulettes. The insignia of an Air Force Squadron Leader – but the uniform was so ancient, looking remarkably like those worn during the Pacific War in World War II. Mike felt his chest constrict as the world spun for one dizzying moment. No. He had to be wrong. Too many science fiction DVDs over the years. He held out his hand.

"I'm Lt Commander Mike Flynn of the Royal Australian Navy. This is my Executive Officer, Lt McGregor." The man shook his hand warmly but his eyes widened in obvious surprise as he turned to Kate.

"A woman! Serving on a naval vessel on active service?" His voice cracked with incredulity. "This must be something new?" There was no mistaking his complete puzzlement as he looked back at Mike with questioning eyes, but he had not missed the sparks that leapt into the woman's green eyes at his comment. Then he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, you will think me rude. I'm James Bigglesworth, Squadron Leader. I've been seconded to the RAAF to help out for a while." He paused as his speculative gaze took in the boat on which he was now standing, noting not only the sailors' uniforms which were completely unlike any naval attire he'd ever seen, but also at least two other female crew members, one of whom also appeared to have officer's insignia on her epaulettes. His eyes returned to Mike.

"I'm presuming you've been sent to pick up the survivors of the _Gunadoo_? They'll be very glad to see you."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Realise that I may have confused any readers who have read this fic on another site. Yes, I am also _RAAF Spitfire Girl_ – hope that clears up any concerns regarding possible blatant plagiarism.

….

Mike shook his head slightly and then became aware of the sailors standing around observing the exchange. He turned and swung his gaze across the semi-circle.

"Why are you all standing around?" He demanded. "Buff, get everyone back to work to restore our communications. I need to talk to NavCom and give them a sitrep asap. Swain, find some dry clothes for our guest and bring them to the Officers' Mess." Mike's tone conveyed his displeasure to his crew and they melted from the scene to obey his commands.

"I'm sure you want to get out of those wet clothes," he smiled. "I think we both have some questions we need answered."

"I'm sure we do, Lieutenant Commander," smiled Biggles agreeably. He looked skywards to where the two Spitfires continued to circle – one at what seemed to Mike to be a dangerously low altitude. "I'd better let my fellows know they can go home. My own 2IC is bound to turn up shortly, anyway." So saying, he waved his arm above his head and pointed westward. The pilot in the lower Spitfire commenced a very low run over the _Hammersley _and the pilot leant out, dropping a small object on to the deck. He continued his low circling as Biggles, with an apologetic smile, moved to retrieve it. It was a piece of paper wrapped around a small silver case that Mike took to be a cigarette case. Biggles read the note and politely handed it to Mike. Mike read the hastily written message.

_Chief, If you're okay, we'll go back and tell Algy. Will let you know what he decides. G._

"Looks like you might have me with you for a couple of hours. I hope that won't be too inconvenient?"

'Not at all, Squadron Leader," returned Mike amiably. "I think we have a few things to talk about. If you'll follow me?" As Mike led the way below, Biggles' eyes registered many oddities. The uniforms, the female crew members, one of whom was part of the immediate command structure, the sophisticated gunnery equipment he had glimpsed on the deck, the inflatable rescue boat that had been used to rescue him, the design of the boat itself…all were beyond anything Biggles had previously experienced. If the RAN had something like this up its sleeve, he wondered why there had been no return fire on the attacking Zeros. If anything, the entire crew, from its CO down had seemed stunned and, he thought shrewdly, rather disbelieving of what they were seeing. He looked forward to his conversation with the two officers accompanying him.

They were soon in the compact cabin with the door labelled _Officers' Mess_ where the man whom Flynn had called 'Swain' was waiting with a change of clothes and a towel. Biggles took them gratefully, and while the _Hammersley's_ officers waited outside, he quickly towelled himself dry and changed into the strangely patterned uniform provided. He popped his head out the door to let his hosts know he was ready and the naval officers joined him.

"Would you like a brew?" asked the woman, moving to a small bench and reaching into a cupboard for some white mugs.

"A brew?" His puzzlement was genuine. Surely she wasn't offering him a beer?

"A coffee, sir," her smile was quite dazzling and changed her whole face.

"Oh, of course, I must have had a bump to the head," he grinned back amiably. "Thank you, Lieutenant. That would be very much appreciated."

As the younger woman busied herself making coffees and breaking out a packet of unfamiliar biscuits with the words _Tim Tams_ written across the packaging, Biggles looked around the room, and finally allowed his steady gaze to rest back on the captain.

"I don't think I actually thanked you for pulling me out of the drink. It's always a bit dicey going down in these waters, isn't it?" Biggles raised his coffee mug towards Mike. "Thanks."

"No worries, mate. Glad to help out. But I think we have some questions we want answered, if you don't mind." Mike paused to sip the hot liquid appreciatively. "What exactly is going on, if you don't mind my asking. We seem to have sailed into the middle of World War Three."

Biggles held the other man's gaze steadily as he slowly lowered his own mug. "Why do you say 'World War Three?"

"Well, how else would I describe what just happened?" asked Mike, a little too casually. "World War Two was over more than 60 years ago…wasn't it?" He added hesitantly at the look that crossed the pilot's face.

"Sixty years ago! What year do you think this is?" Biggles' voice almost cracked with incredulity.

….

Mike looked across at Kate who had slipped into a seat nearby. She, too, was lowering her mug, eyes growing wide. Neither naval officer wanted to ask the next question. She looked steadily at Mike. _You're the CO, sir. Your call._ The message was as clear as if the words had been spoken aloud. Mike released the breath he'd barely realised he'd been holding.

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me the date, Squadron Leader."

"It's 20th April," Biggles said slowly, his eyes not leaving Mike's. The CO's head nodded very slowly.

"Yes, it is," he breathed. "Please tell me what year it is."

"The year is 1942."

Mike blinked and stared. Yet somehow, he was not as totally surprised nor shocked as what he felt he should have been. The clatter of Kate's coffee mug hitting the table jerked his attention away from the man opposite. A good portion of coffee rolled over the rim of her mug and splattered the front of her uniform. Suppressing a curse, she jumped up, grabbed a cloth from the nearby bench and mopped herself.

"Kate…X! Did that burn you?" Mike had also jumped to his feet.

"No sir. I'm fine. Really. It's not too bad at all. Just another uniform to add to the day's disasters," she muttered caustically.

Biggles watched the exchange with interest, noting how the woman batted the CO's hands away as he attempted to help mop up the front of her uniform.

"It's fine, sir. Really." She glared, her green eyes flashing dangerously. Mike withdrew and resumed his seat, his eyes still following her movements as she finally dropped the cloth on the bench and sat down again.

There was a silence, which Biggles was beginning to think he should break, when Flynn spoke again.

'You did say, 1942 – as in World War Two 1942? Northern Australia under threat of Japanese invasion? The bombing of Darwin and other northern towns? Our troops about to start the fight of their lives in PNG…" Mike's voice wound down as he frowned, his mind whirling at the implications. He ran a hand through his already unruly brown hair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How the hell…?" He seemed momentarily lost for words again and stared at the airman, wanting desperately to be able to disbelieve him, to somehow prove him wrong. Admit that it was all a terrible joke gone horribly wrong.

"Yes. That's what I said. 1942." Biggles took a sip from his mug and returned it to the table. "You're not from this time, are you? I don't know how you've arrived here – complete with this ship – but everything about you screams something very, very futuristic." He gave a lopsided, whimsical smile. "So the world survived its current madness?"

"Boat," corrected Mike absently, still lost for words. He noted the perplexity on the Squadron Leader's face and explained. "This is a Patrol Boat, technically not a ship." He sighed. "Is it possible for you to tell me what you're doing here? I'm not totally sure what to do. I need to think through the situation."

"Sir," offered his XO, "don't we have a duty to inform the nearest RAN HQ of our situation?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Yes. That's what I said. 1942." Biggles took a sip from his mug and returned it to the table. "You're not from this time, are you? I don't know how you've arrived here – complete with this ship – but everything about you screams something very, very futuristic." He gave a lopsided, whimsical smile. "So the world survived its current madness?"

"Boat," corrected Mike absently, still lost for words. He noted the perplexity on the Squadron Leader's face and explained. "This is a Patrol Boat, technically not a ship." He sighed. "Is it possible for you to tell me what you're doing here? I'm not totally sure what to do. I need to think through the situation."

"Sir," offered his XO, "don't we have a duty to inform the nearest RAN HQ of our situation?"

"I'm aware of that, X," he snapped, then pushed his hand through his hair and glanced at her apologetically, although not offering anything verbally. "I don't even know where the nearest RAN HQ is. If it's really only two months since Darwin was first attacked…" His voice trailed off and he looked down into his coffee mug. "I thought I knew my history better than this," he muttered.

"Perhaps you'd find it helpful to tell me what happened and how you wound up here," suggested Biggles quietly, his eyes moving speculatively from one RAN officer to the other. Mike rubbed his hand across his brow and shook his head.

"If I knew, I'd be able to tell you and could probably even do something about it. All I know is we were on a routine patrol in Torres Strait when we ran into extremely foul weather. Some kind of electrical phenomenon came at us from nowhere and next thing we were here – being attacked by World War II Japanese fighters," his incredulity echoed through his words. "I have absolutely no idea how we wound up here, Squadron Leader. But I am going to have to do something about it," he finished resolutely.

Biggles smiled again. "My friends call me Biggles. I suspect you might be stuck with us for a while, so let's not stand too much on ceremony."

"Mike," nodded Flynn with a grin. Biggles turned to Kate quizzically and she smiled again.

"I'm Kate," she offered.

"But only off the boat," deadpanned Mike mischievously. He smirked as he watched her eyes flash dangerously.

"Of course, _sir_," she retorted, "_only_ off the boat."

Mike turned from his game of Kate-baiting and faced the reality of their present situation, a reality made only too obvious by the man seated opposite him.

"You mentioned the…_Gunadoo_, I think you said?" When Biggles nodded an affirmative, Mike continued. "Am I allowed to ask about that situation? Why you thought we might be a rescue vessel?"

"The _Gunadoo_ was on its way to pick up some prisoners of war being held at a mission station when it was torpedoed by a U-boat last week and several of the survivors are currently being looked after by my people. The navy said they'd be sending a boat to pick them up as soon as they could and I thought you might have been it." Biggles paused and glanced from one to the other of the two officers. "Obviously you're not, since you seem to be somewhat displaced in time."

"You're right on that score," agreed Mike, looking at Kate. "A U-boat? As in a _German_ submarine? Not Japanese?"

"Definitely a U-boat," affirmed Biggles. "We knocked out their base but the sub escaped."

"Let me see if I've got this right?" Mike ran his hand across his brow and looked at the airman. "This is 1942, we're in the middle of World War II, there's a German U-boat on the loose in Australian waters and Japanese Zeros are likely to drop out of the skies at any moment."


	4. Chapter 4

"That's about it," agreed Biggles amiably.

"You seem to be taking our sudden arrival rather well." Mike looked across the table quizzically. "Please don't ask me to believe this is an every day occurrence for you."

"It's not," laughed Biggles. "I've seen and experienced some very strange things over the years, but this is the first time I've come across a time travelling naval boat and its crew."

"Let me assure you, this boat and crew would be much happier if this had never happened!" He looked at his XO. "X, assemble the crew on the boat deck immediately. I need to brief them." His mouth twitched, "I'd give a lot to be a fly on the wall at NavCom right now while they're trying to figure out what's happened to us!" He pushed his chair back and rose, looking again at Biggles as the XO left. "I wonder if you'd mind coming with me. I might need you to corroborate my briefing."

Biggles rose but held up his hand to forestall the Patrol Boat captain. "Before you speak to your crew, can I ask what you think you might do next?"

"Do next?" Mike stared then shrugged helplessly. "I really don't know," he added. "I suppose I really should try to contact the Navy and let them know we're here. The problem is, I _know_ the future – how all of this pans out. We all do." He stopped and rubbed his hands through his hair. "Somehow I've brought a $50,000,000 warship back in time and ethically, I'm not even sure I can let anyone know."

"Things aren't going so well for Australia at the moment. Another ship for your navy, in these waters, could make a big difference – just the difference that's needed. I can assure you that if the enemy got their hands on this boat of yours, they would have absolutely no hesitation in using it against us." Biggles broke off and looked incredulously at the other man. "Did you say fifty _million_ dollars?"

"Yes."

"That's a _lot_ of money in anyone's currency," Biggles shook his head. "But that's not the issue here. Your country is facing the biggest and most desperate fight in its history, and you could help."

"Squadron Leader, I can assure you that if my crew and I were from this time, we wouldn't hesitate. In fact I'm quite sure each and every one of us would be on active service if we were actually from the here and now…" Mike stopped. "This is giving me a headache and I've only been here a few minutes!"

"I have a suggestion," Biggles offered. "My fellows are going to be wanting to rescue me fairly soon and they're not going to be able to do that while we're in the middle of the sea. Why don't you take me back to my base and we'll see what we can work out?"

"And your base is…where?"

"I could show you on your charts. But it's not too far."

"And you have somewhere I could dock this boat?"

"Actually, I don't. But there's deep water where you could anchor and come ashore in those inflatable dinghies of yours."

"I don't think I have much choice, do I?" sighed Mike. "I'd better go up and speak to my crew."

Biggles followed the captain up to the deck where a group of twenty or so young men and women stood waiting.

As their captain approached, the group smartened themselves into a parade rest stance and gave him their full attention.

"_Hammersley_, we've been through some challenging times together over the past few years and we've always come through – more often than not with flying colours – and you've made me very proud to be your captain. Today, though, we're facing something that is a long, long way out of what we've previously experienced." He paused and looked at each crew member individually, drawing a deep breath as he did so. "There's no easy way to say this, and some of you may have already been considering this highly improbable conclusion, so I'll say it bluntly. We appear to have travelled back in time and have arrived in 1942. Those Zeros were the real thing. Squadron Leader Bigglesworth is the CO of an RAF outfit that's been seconded to our RAAF to assist in the defence of Australia – our country. I'm not sure exactly what that's going to mean for us at this stage. Ultimately, I'll be doing everything I can to find a way to take us home to our own time, but in the meantime, I've accepted the Squadron Leader's offer of hospitality and we'll be taking the _Hammersley_ to his base. In the meantime, we need to come to combat readiness and mount a constant lookout for attack from the enemy. Buffer, I want the Typhoon and the Brownings manned and deck crew issued with F88s. I'm not going to ask for any questions at this point, because quite frankly, I don't have any answers. I expect each and every one of you to continue to uphold the honour and tradition of the service as you have always done. I'll ask Squadron Leader Bigglesworth to give you a quick update on the current situation here and then we'll set our course for his base."

Mike turned to Biggles who smiled his agreement and stepped forward to stand beside the Hammersley's CO.

"First of all, thank you again for pulling me out of the drink so quickly – and for the dry clothes. They're certainly a little different," he added humourously, noting the grins that swept around the assembled crewmembers. "As your captain has quite accurately summarised, by whatever means it happened, you have arrived in April 1942 and the world is in the midst of a world war on a scale not previously experienced. I imagine this is ancient history to all of you and at the moment your CO and I haven't quite come to grips with the implications for you, but take it from me, this is real. We are at war and you have landed in the thick of it and we'll do our best to look after you until things are sorted out." He nodded to the crew as he finished and turned a quizzical glance towards Mike.

"You all heard the Squadron Leader. We've still got a job to do, so let's get on with it. Buffer, Swain sort out the weapons. All Bridge crew to the Bridge at the rush." As Mike dismissed his crew, he turned to Biggles. "Please join us on the Bridge."

Biggles looked at the naval map spread across the navigator's table on the Bridge and laid a finger on a small island to the west.

"That's our base. Foote Island – or Handy Cay, as it seems to be more commonly known."

"Plot a course, Nav," ordered Mike to the young female lieutenant who stood beside the table.

"Sir," she acknowledged and bent over the table, rising shortly to give her captain the coordinates which he repeated to the helmsman.

"Take us there, top of the green, Charge," Mike ordered and Biggles heard the change in the engines as they picked up and the boat changed course for their new destination.

Biggles gazed around the Bridge in fascination, his eyes taking in the myriad of screens, and the highly sophisticated control systems on display.

"Lost your windscreen in the attack, I see," he observed. "Hope it's not too inconvenient for you."

"Not as long as the weather holds," answered Kate with a smile. "Could be a nuisance if we had to sail through a storm without it. We'd need our wet weather gear!"

"And could seriously damage our electronics systems, Ma'am" added the tousle-haired Leading Seaman seated at the Helm.

"Then you might start earning your pay, ET," remarked Mike. "Although I suspect the status of our electronics systems is not going to really be an issue in 1942."

Biggles stood to one side and quietly observed the easy interaction amongst the Bridge crew. The female XO, in particular, interacted quietly and efficiently, obviously commanding as much respect as her CO. He hid a smile when Mike gave young Lieutenant Nikki Caetano an order, only to be informed she'd already anticipated and initiated that particular command.

"Just once, Nav, I'd like to get in ahead of you," muttered the captain, shaking his head with a grin.

"In your dreams, sir," she responded with a grin of her own, prompting chuckles around the entire Bridge.

Still shaking his head and grinning ruefully, Mike came to stand beside his guest.

"Believe it or not, Squadron Leader, but I do happen to have the best Patrol Boat crew in the Fleet."

"I'm sure you do, Lt Commander," agreed Biggles with his own grin. He liked what he had seen. The easy camaraderie, tempered by obvious respect for their superior officers, was obvious even in the short time he'd been aboard. He realised that there was a high level of trust evident in the crew's response to both their CO and the XO. He wondered what past episodes in the crew's service together had bonded them into such a close unit, especially a peace-time service. He had watched as the man they called Buffer had returned to the Bridge and directed the young seaman referred to as 'Spider' to man the typhoon. To Biggles' surprise he had seated himself at a control console on the Bridge, from where he moved some controls and the very sophisticated piece of gunnery on the deck began to move.

"But will it fire, with all the electronics down, Buff?" asked the young man anxiously.

"Good question, Spider," responded Buffer, turning to raise his brows at his CO.

"ET, see if we can still fire the typhoon remotely now the computers are down," ordered Mike, moving over to the Captain's chair as the Electronics Technician moved from the helmsman's seat beside him.

"Captain has the ship," Kate's clear voice rang out suddenly.

"Captain has the ship," affirmed the CO, seating himself and nodding Buffer into the seat vacated by ET.

"Your gunnery is remotely controlled?" asked Biggles with raised brows.

"Normally it's controlled by our computers and aimed and fired from the Bridge. But we do have a fail-safe back up system. I just need ET here to see if we still have enough control in what electronics we have remaining in our internal systems." Mike cupped his chin in his hand and contemplated the console under which ET had all but vanished.

"But your other defences are okay?" queried Biggles.

"Oh, yes. Everything else is fine – until we run out of ammunition."


	5. Chapter 5

"Maybe we can help with some of the ammunition," offered Biggles cautiously. "Your Brownings, for instance. I don't think I could help with the one you're playing around with at the moment, though," he finished with a grin.

ET emerged from beneath the Typhoon's control console.

"Boss, we can control it. The computer hard drive is still okay. But we don't have any GPS, so I can't do anything about the targeting. We'll have to trust Spider's aim, sir."

"Nothing wrong with my aim, ET," protested the young sailor indignantly.

"No one said there was, Seaman Webb," interjected Mike with a cautionary glance at the grinning ET.

"Boss, there's an aircraft approaching!" The young female Able Seaman whom Biggles had heard referred to as Bomber pointed ahead, her binoculars firmly held to her eyes.

"Don't worry. It's one of ours," Biggles assured Mike. "It'll probably be Algy Lacey, if I know anything."

"Sir, is that a Catalina?" Spider's voice seemed awestruck and Biggles glanced at the young man with a smile.

"Yes, it is."

"My Granddad flew in one of those during the War," replied Spider in the same awestruck voice. "He was a navigator."

Biggles looked across at Mike. "I didn't ask, what year have you come from?"

"2009."

"Sixty-seven years," murmured Biggles thoughtfully. He smiled at Spider. "Do you know where he was posted during the war?"

'Umm, Townsville I think. And Broome. I'd have to check with mum. She knows all the family history. He was her father." The young man frowned. "But I can't remember what years. I don't know if was now or later…I mean. I don't think I know what I mean, sir."

"Don't worry, Spider. I'm getting a headache thinking about it," his CO reassured him with a rueful smile of his own. "I think we just have to accept it for the moment and not try to think too much." Mike paused as he watched the approaching flying boat. "What's he going to do?"

"I think he wants to land," stated Biggles, his eyes on the circling machine. "Can you slow your engines so he's not swamped when he touches down?"

Mike nodded and gave the order and Charge promptly cut back the engine revs and the _Hammersley_ slowed to a near standstill. Satisfied, Biggles waved to the circling pilot and indicated it would be okay to come in, and watched as the Catalina's hull gently kissed the water and skimmed across to stop not far from the patrol boat. The cockpit window was thrown open and Algy's head popped out.

"Everything okay?" he shouted.

Mike handed Biggles a megaphone pressing a button on its lower end as he did so.

"Easier than shouting at him. Do you want me to send a RHIB across to bring him over? He'll have to shout himself hoarse for you to hear him properly." Biggles nodded gratefully and raised the megaphone to his mouth.

"The captain's sending a dinghy across to bring you back. Who's with you?"

In answer the other cockpit window was opened and Ginger's head appeared.

"All right. Ginger, you stay there. Only Algy need come over. I take it we have some cover upstairs?"

Algy nodded and pointed upwards vigorously. Biggles squinted up into the heavens and noted the three dots circling above.

In a few minutes the RHIB was hoisted back onto the deck and Algy was stepping out to greet his cousin. He glanced around curiously, eyes widening as he took in the uniforms and weaponry on the vessel. His eyebrows arched in a silent query as he looked back at Biggles.

"Lt Commander Flynn, meet my second-in-command, Flight Lieutenant Algy Lacey."

The two men shook hands and Mike introduced Algy to his Executive Officer. Algy's eyes widened in the same surprise as Biggles had experienced earlier.

"Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant McGregor," he nodded with a quizzical smile. "I didn't know the Australian Navy had women on active service?"

Mike sighed as he watched Kate's eyes flash.

"It seems we're not from your time. In our time, women in the Armed Forces serve alongside men – equally and effectively," he explained briefly. He turned to Biggles. "I'll let you do the explaining. It really is giving me a headache," he finished ruefully.

As Biggles finished explaining the situation, Algy pursed his lips in a silent whistle.

"So the _Hammersley_'s going to join us at Handy Cay, I take it?" He glanced around at the patrol boat. "We're playing host to some of your navy types right now. I'll look forward to seeing their faces when you sail in with this little beauty," he grinned.

"As a matter of interest, how did you convince Jack Somers to let you have his Cat?"

"You underestimate your importance, old boy. Jack practically pushed me into his kite. He wants to know that you're definitely still alive and kicking. Poor old Ginger was just a bit peeved. Thought Jack wasn't taking his word that you were okay," Algy finished lightly.

"Well, I sincerely hope he didn't say words to that effect in front of Jack!" exclaimed Biggles. "I don't need anyone up on insubordination charges."

"It's okay, settle down. He had the sense to keep quiet in front of Jack. Then he let Bertie and me know all about it so I grabbed him to come with me to calm him down. You know Ginger. He's fine now he's let off steam. And to be fair to Jack, he really doesn't know how we operate," Algy grinned irrepressibly. "Or he'd have known I'd be coming straight out to check things out for myself without him having to tell me to do so."

Biggles turned to the _Hammersley's_ captain and smiled apologetically. "I really should fill you in on the situation you're sailing into." He quickly and succinctly briefed the _Hammersley's_ CO and XO on the current situation on the base at Handy Cay. "We'll look after you, as I said earlier, until we can figure out what to do with you."

"What to do with you?" repeated Algy disbelievingly. "I don't think the navy will need to think too hard about what they could do with you!"

Mike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "That's the problem, Flight Lieutenant. I'm not sure we can go sailing into battle with guns blazing because we may run the risk of changing history." He looked back at Biggles. "We really have to think about this."

"Sir," interrupted Kate. "How do we know we'll be changing history? For all we know this may have been meant to happen."

"Come on, X," scoffed Mike. "You can't seriously suggest that! I didn't know you were a student of time travel."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me. Sir," his Executive Officer retorted blandly. "And if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to get back to the Bridge." Kate nodded at her fellow officers, turned on her heel and walked off.

Algy blinked, then grinned appreciatively. "I think I like your Executive Officer."

Mike glared then sighed, causing Algy to blink again and Biggles to further reflect on what he'd observed since his precipitous arrival on the patrol boat.

"Lieutenant McGregor has been the best Executive Office I've had since I took command. My previous XOs rarely lasted longer than a few months…for various reasons," Mike began somewhat stiffly as he watched Kate's progress up to the Bridge. "However, she sometimes doesn't know when to back down. The whole crew seems to be aware of our – er – throat-ripping debates on issues where Kate doesn't agree with my decisions." He seemed unaware that his XO's first name had slipped out and he finished with a grin. "She has certainly made life more challenging. The crew would all fight off any number of insurgents for her, yet they all know better than to cross her. More than one of my junior sailors has been required to clean all the heads with a toothbrush, but not one of them bares her any grudge."

Biggles glanced at Algy and shrugged slightly. "Different times, different ways. We'll discuss it when we reach base. And you'd better get cracking back there or we'll have Bertie out here next. Oh, make sure Ginger's calmed down before you get back, will you?"

"He's fine now. You don't need to worry about him sounding off at Jack. He really does have more sense than that, Biggles."


	6. Chapter 6

Biggles leant against the rail along the deck beside Mike Flynn and watched the Catalina disappear in the distance. One lone speck had disengaged itself from the circling trio high above and followed in the flying boat's wake, the other two remaining as escort for the patrol boat.

"How long till we reach Handy Cay?" Biggles asked idly.

"Roughly four hours, according to Nav," Mike looked heavenwards to the two small aircraft that were flying in wide circles in their effort to remain with the naval vessel. "What's their endurance?" he asked.

"We've had long-range tanks fitted to all our machines, but that will be stretching it," observed Biggles. "Don't worry, though. Algy'll send another couple out to take over. The boys will look after us," he smiled reassuringly.

"I'm sure they will," agreed Mike. He turned to face Biggles, his face serious. "I'm quite prepared to fire in self-defence. If anyone opens fire on my ship, I'll return the compliment. It won't be the first time we've seen action," he added. "My people's safety is of paramount importance to me."

"I understand what you're saying, Mike. My people's safety is important to me, too." Biggles gazed out to sea before turning back to the ship's captain. "But we're in the middle of a war. No commander can guarantee the safety of those who serve under him. All we can do is train our people, share our own experiences with them, and hope and pray they'll survive to fight another day." A small grin tugged at his mouth. "If you could have seen my gang of lunatics in the early days of the squadron, you'd have never dreamt they'd still be alive and flying together this far down the track. Watching the flying of one or two of them gave me the screaming heebie-jeebies – and still does for that matter," he laughed reminiscently, then his face was sober again. "But as I say, we're fighting a war that's been forced upon us by delusional megalomaniacs who want to enslave the free world. I've watched good friends shot down around me but I still have to continue sending good men out into combat." He reached out and lightly touched Mike's shoulder. "I'm sorry that you've found yourselves in this situation," he said seriously, "but I can't guarantee your safety or that of any of your crew. All I can do is offer you safe harbour at my base and we'll see where we go from there."

Mike returned Biggles' gaze for a long moment before turning to lean back against the rail as his eyes roamed the _Hammersley_, taking in the crewmembers going about their duties as if it were a normal day on patrol. This was his family. Patrol boat crews lived in one another's pockets and life was much less formal than on the larger frigates. Mike Flynn was renowned throughout the RAN as being wedded to patrol boats – the _Hammersley_ in particular. He and his crew had served together for several years, and Mike had a running battle with his superiors in his efforts to avoid a long overdue promotion, which would see him off the boat. The _Hammersley's_ captain was also renowned for conveniently losing any paper work relating to his promotion.

"You're going to have to give some thought to what you're going to do with your female crew members," Biggles' voice broke into Mike's thoughts.

"Do with them?" Mike frowned. "They're all serving members of the Royal Australian Navy on active duty. They are as well-trained and as capable as the male crew. As I said before, my XO is exceptional. She leads all the boarding parties and has come under fire more than once. There's not one man on this boat who would baulk at following her lead." He gestured towards the bridge. "Lieutenant Caetano may be young, but she's a damn good navigator and I count myself lucky to have her. Our chefo, Bomber, is a first rate cook, but she also participates in boarding parties and is more than competent not just to look after herself but the rest of the team. Everyone of them is a first class shot, and is not afraid to fire when necessary." He subjected Biggles to his death glare, but the British pilot was unfazed.

"I'm sure they are, Mike. Personally I know more than one young woman who is not just a competent pilot but who's also damn good in combat. They have to be, given the way things are in my part of the world just now." Biggles turned back to gaze back across the waters in front of them. "But, you will run into problems getting them recognised in those roles in this particular time. This isn't 2009; this is 1942. That's what I meant."

Mike ran his hands through his hair. He stared across the waters that had held his heart captive since his youth. "I've been in the Navy for over 20 years – joined up when I was 17 because I wanted to be at sea. There've been a lot of changes since then. And our acceptance of women on an equal footing with their male counterparts has been one of the better changes. I'm not about to let my female crewmembers be discriminated against simply because they're women. Those days are long gone."

There was silence between the two men until Mike turned to lean his back against the rail and surveyed his domain. "No one, male or female, signs up in the armed services if they're not prepared to go where their country sends them. And even in peacetime that can mean coming under fire. I've seen friends fall beside me, too, mate." He glanced at the man beside him. "Maybe not as many as you, but I do know what it means." He paused and let his eyes wander over his ship again. "I'm not going to let this crew be split up. We've been together too long and I'm responsible for my people, regardless of what time we happen to be in. That's not going to change."

"I completely understand," Biggles smiled sympathetically. "I have a question, though."

"Ask away."

"How does the Navy – or any of the Services in your time – manage the issue of relationships?"

As Biggles waited for an answer, he saw the captain's eyes turn towards the Bridge and the blonde Executive Officer sitting in the captain's chair. Finally Mike drew in a breath. "The Navy has strict rules – no fraternisation between shipmates. If anyone wishes to pursue a personal relationship with a fellow shipmate one or the other of them must transfer off the ship. Bringing personal relationships on board has the danger of impinging upon professional behaviour and could potentially endanger lives," he recited unemotionally.

He pushed himself away from the rail and looked back at Biggles.

"I'd better get back to the Bridge before the X starts thinking the ship's hers. Do you want to come, or would you rather stay out here?"

'I'll come, if you don't think I'll be in the way."

He was rewarded with a grin.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - Some of the characters introduced in this story (i.e. Jack Somers, Ted Edgars, the survivors of the _Gunadoo_) are featured in another fic on the actual _Biggles_ site - _Biggles in the RAAF_. As they are my own creation, I have introduced them into this story as well - basically because I couldn't ignore characters I'd introduced in the other fic when both stories are set in the same timeline and geographical location. Anyway, as usual I don't own any of the characters created by W.E. Johns nor those belonging to the _Sea Patrol_ TV series. [Jack Somers, Ted Edgars and any other introduced characters, however, remain my intellectual property.]

Four hours later the _Hammersley_ had dropped anchor off Foote Island and her crew was being introduced to the island base's current inhabitants.

"We've a bit of an assortment of all three services here at the moment," observed Biggles laughingly. "We could almost set up our own command HQ, Jack." This last comment was made to the young RAAF Group Captain whom Biggles had introduced as Jack Somers, Biggles' own immediate superior.

"You've almost got an embarrassment of riches, mate," responded Somers.

"Well, without making too fine a point of it, you could fly a load of the _Gunadoo's_ survivors back to Cairns or Townsville in the Cat, tomorrow," suggested Biggles. "This island's going to be a bit hard-pressed to accommodate everyone."

"Why do I get the impression you're trying to get rid of me, Biggles?" laughed the Australian.

"Probably because he is." Mike, Kate, and those members of the _Hammersley's_ crew who were standing nearby were taken aback when they saw this last comment came from an Australian Army sergeant who was standing beside the Group Captain. But Somers only rolled his eyes.

"Ahh, Lt Commander Flynn, Lt McGregor, meet Sergeant Edgars," Biggles introduced the man, making no effort to hide the merriment in his own eyes. "They're by way of being family," he offered in a somewhat ambiguous explanation.

"Pleased to meet you, sir, ma'am," greeted Edgars.

"Ted's going to be my brother-in-law soon," explained Somers. "You'll get to know him quite well if you stay here."

"Speaking of which, we need to talk. Jack, could you come with us?" Biggles' gesture included Algy, Mike and Kate. He turned to the Flight Lieutenant whom he had introduced as Bertie.

"Why don't you take our guests to the Mess, Bertie? Look after them and we'll join everyone shortly."

The _Hammersley's _CO and XO followed Biggles, Algy and Jack Somers along the edge of a grass airstrip to a small timber building with a wide verandah and a door marked "Commanding Officer". Biggles smiled at Mike.

"Perhaps you'd better tell Jack your story yourself, Mike," he invited. "Then we can decide how we're going to deal with this."

….

Somers let out a low whistle and slowly shook his head when Mike Flynn finished speaking.

"2009! So this is rather ancient history to you?" He gazed thoughtfully at the _Hammersley's_ senior officers. "You – and all your crew – know how this is all going to end."

"I think you're stating the obvious there, Jack," observed Biggles drily. "We've got the future standing in front of us, but the future seems a little wary of giving us any details."

"I've never had occasion to think of myself, or my ship, as the future," Mike grinned apologetically. "We've always been 'the present' – till now. And quite frankly, it's just as difficult for us to get our heads around this as it is for you."

"Jack, Mike and I've already talked about this. What we have to decide is what we're going to do."

"Do!" Somers' eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. 'We've just been handed an additional naval patrol boat, complete with crew. You know how we're placed. I'll tell you what we're going to do, Biggles. We're going to use them."

Biggles saw the glance that passed between the two naval officers. In his brief time on their ship, he had observed with interest their apparent ability to communicate quickly and effectively without any words being spoken. He decided to forestall the objections he knew would be coming.

"Jack, it may not be as simple as that. I gather there's some concern about the possibility of inadvertently interfering with events in the here and now that can lead to changing history for the future." He gave Mike and Kate a quizzical look. "Have I put that correctly?"

"Something like that," Mike agreed, glancing at his Executive Officer. "I don't want to do something in this time that could affect the lives of my crew in their own time." He paused, thinking about the impossible situation they now found themselves in. "If say, one of my crew contributes to the death of someone in 1942 who shouldn't have died, or conversely, saves someone who should have died, what impact will that have on the future – even their own lives. Damn, this sounds too far fetched to be real! I can't believe I'm having this conversation!"

"And I'm not sure your concerns are necessarily right, sir," Kate stared back, her green eyes thoughtful.

"Why not?" asked Somers. The ease with which the Lieutenant interacted with her commanding officer, and indeed with Biggles and Algy, intrigued him. The woman didn't even seem the least bit intimidated.

"Because we don't know _why_ we've come back in time. For all we know this could be meant to happen and we could be here for the very purpose you've just alluded to – to correct something that should have happened but hasn't…or something that has happened that shouldn't have," she stated with a slight smile.

"Oh come on, X," Mike made no effort to hide his exasperation. "This isn't _Dr Who _or_ Star Trek_. This is real life. I've never heard you talk like this before."

"With all respect, we've never been in this situation before. Sir." It was as if she added the designation as an afterthought, and she gazed unflinchingly at her captain. Remembering Mike's earlier comments about the pair's tendency to engage in what he had described as "throat-ripping debates", Biggles intervened.

"I think you both have a point." He smiled as both heads snapped around towards him and he noted the slight embarrassment that flickered across both faces.

"Jack, I agree. Having a warship like this to help out would be invaluable right now. I can see how we could work together quite easily, Mike, and whilst I understand the concerns you've voiced, I also think Kate has a valid point. In fact, if you've been able to travel back to now from the future, how do we know that someone who's sympathetic to our enemies hasn't done the same thing. Although you've been very careful not to reveal anything, the fact that you and your navy exist as you do nearly 70 years from now speaks volumes. Young Spider said his grandfather served on Catalinas during this war. You haven't told us anything specific, but it's obvious that Australia, at the very least, was not defeated. Therefore, I'm taking a leap of logic and presuming that the Allies will win this current conflict."

"Well done Sherlock," grinned Somers. "You might make a good detective yourself one day. This is the most encouraging bit of reasoning I've heard in a while. So it's possible that the _Hammersley's_ been sent back to help us fulfil history and settle this damn war." He rose and picked up his hat. "I'm off to get Ted or that young Roy Smyth of yours to send a message to Ken about this and see how we can turn this to our advantage."

At this both Mike and Kate stared in alarm and Biggles reached out a restraining hand.

"Hang on, Jack. Let's not rush things. I'm not sure it's a good idea to let this news get around just yet. It could complicate things. Particularly if Ted's father gets in on the act. And it's probably not fair to Ken to expect him to keep something like this completely under his hat."

Somers looked back at Biggles with a quizzical brow. "Biggles, you can't expect us to sit on this. Ken's responsible for the defence of a sizeable chunk of northern Australia and I thought we just agreed that you and the _Hammersley_ could work together up here?"

"Yes, but we haven't discussed it with Mike yet, have we?" reminded Biggles reasonably.

"I wondered when you'd remember I'm the CO of my ship," Mike interjected rather coolly. "With all respect, sir," he turned towards Somers, "I think it would be safer for all concerned if knowledge of our presence remained as contained as possible. For one thing, I'm not confident that the naval authorities of this time will allow my entire crew to continue serving together and I can't allow that to happen. I need thiscrew, _my_ whole crew to sail the _Hammersley_ – and to fight if necessary. I've lost contact with my own direct chain of command and as my ship doesn't really exist as yet, I'm taking responsibility for all decisions and actions we engage in. If we've really been brought back in time to correct something that's changed that shouldn't have changed, then that's what we have to focus on doing – otherwise we continue to run the risk of changing history. It's the whole ripple effect. We need to stop it spreading any further than absolutely necessary."

The Group Captain groaned.

"This is giving me a headache. I don't think I really want to know about it. Biggles, I'm going to do as you suggested and take the rest of the _Gunadoo_ blokes to Townsville tomorrow. As for this business," he waved his hand towards Mike and Kate, "I know nothing, nothing at all. As far as I'm concerned, Lieutenant-Commander Flynn, you, the _Hammersley_ and your crew just don't exist." He glared at the four officers in Biggles' office. 'And now, can we go get a drink?" he finished plaintively.

"Good command decision, Jack," grinned Biggles in return, rising to his feet. "That way you won't get any grey hairs worrying about what we're going to be doing – or not be doing - around here with the _Hammersley_."


End file.
